


Elevator 2b

by PicassoWithAPencil



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PicassoWithAPencil/pseuds/PicassoWithAPencil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people with bad outlooks, one elevator, one journey of faith and hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elevator 2b

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Suicidal Thoughts
> 
> I rewatched "The Breakfast Club" for the millionth time and recently watched "The Edge of Tomorrow" which almost made me cry. It inspired me to write this. I dealt with suicidal thoughts two years ago and even now they still creep up. This is a very serious issue and I'm not trying to romanticize the issue. Enjoy and comment and leave kudos!

_ “Do not judge my story by the chapter you walked in on”- Unknown  _

It was dark outside, even considering it was almost nine in the morning. Beth Greene knew it would rain, not by the color of the sky, but by the feeling the inevitable weather left in her chest. Beth wasn't in the mood to make the half hour drive to the city, to her dead end job, but the mortgage had to get paid somehow.

Beth grabbed her bag and her keys, climbing into the rusty old station wagon she’d found on the edge of the local dump, mysteriously driveable. Beth ignored the fact that her hair was fit for a bird, and that she had worn the same outfit to work four days in a row. 

_ “Depressions a funny thing,”  _ she thought to herself. 

As she pulled out of her driveway, listening to the incessant  _ ping _ of rainfall on her windshield, she remembered that tomorrow was her birthday. She shook the dreary image of having no one to be with, even though she knew you couldn't run from the truth.

Maggie, up in Michigan with her perfect husband and perfect baby, would most likely remember and call her. Beth would ignore the rings she knew would carry on till late midnight. All Maggie would do is talk about herself, then leave many a message about how selfish she was for not picking up the phone.

She wanted desperately to talk to Shawn. But the place he was in wasn't a place one could make a simple call to. Beth gripped the steering wheel as she swerved to avoid a dog, ignoring the angry catcalls of the car horns behind her. There were always dogs running around on this road, as if on a suicide mission. 

That's when Beth remembered her own mission, and felt stupid for fantasizing about a birthday that would never come. She pulled into the parking lot, and set off for elevator 2b. 

The one place no one ever thought to go.

Daryl Dixon slammed the phone down onto the receiver with so much brute force that he wasn't surprised when the whole damn thing fell off the wall.  _ Screw this,  _ he thought. 

_ Screw Merle, screw this shitty job, screw everyone.  _ Daryl was not in the mood to get laid off, but here he was, getting the dreaded pink slip.  _ Hell no they called me, the bastards.  _ All he ever did was pack boxes with motors in them anyway.

How hard was that? How hard was that, that you could get fired? They were laying off tons of people, even people with those damn corner offices everyone hungered for. “ _ The economy has gone into recession, there was no choice,”  _ they'd said.

_ Screw you, there's always a choice. _

So now, because he was forced to crawl back to Merle like a pup, he had to get his stuff out from the basement where he worked. Which meant taking elevator 2b. 

The elevator for people who didn't feel like existing anymore.

Beth had expected to be alone as climbed into the elevator, but of course she had to be wrong. A scruffy man with soul piercing blue eyes was with her. She moved past him and wedged herself into the smallest corner closest to the wall.

She didn't think any other soul would be here with her, at least not by a damn choice. She would wait for him to get off and then go about her business.

Daryl just as well had expected to be alone, for he always was, and he especially didn't expect to be here with a total stranger. It was odd for him. Daryl knew every person in the building, yet he was at an impasse with this one concerning her familiarity. 

He had never seen her before. The only thing familiar about her was the haunted look of someone who had been chased by demons from the beginning, and was just tired of it all. Daryl had to look away. 

He couldn't wait till she was gone.

Beth glanced at the floor count flashing up in small dots of fractured light. She noticed one was slightly dim. Not quite there with the rest. She watched it with an odd intensity, like she'd never seen a flickering souls before. Hell, she stopped looking in mirrors a long time ago.

She kept waiting. 

Waiting for it to go out. 

To her disappointment, it never did.

Daryl saw her eyeing the floor count, her expression serious and grave, as if she were staring down the Devil. He couldn't wait to get away from this crazy bitch.

Around the floor Daryl was meant to get off on, the elevator shuddered to a stop. It just couldn't carry their weight anymore. Daryl was more impatient, but the girl was panicking, her breathing coming short. She reached into her bag and took a deep breath through an inhaler. 

He called the emergency phone line and they promised someone would be there soon to help them. He eyed her as she put it away hastily. “Ya got asthma or some shit?” She glared back. “What do you care?” He scoffed. “I don't.”

Beth was hardly in the mood to talk, especially since almost having a panic attack in front of him, but she figured she may as well. “Why are you here,” she asked as she sat down to his level.

He glared at her something fierce, but Beth met it easily. “What do you care,” he snapped back, shooting her used bullets like a pro. “I don't. But we're stuck together so we may as well talk.”

Daryl didn't want to talk to her, she was the last person he wanted to talk to. But maybe it was his attitude, or his shitty circumstances, that made him talk. “Got fired.”

She snorted.

He glared at her.

“You think that shits funny?” 

She nodded.

“Well then yer a bitch.”

She nodded again. “I know.”

She was pissing him off.

“Well then Ms. Bitch, why are you here?”

She shook her head. “You don't wanna know.”

Her voice was so demure and defeated he backed off, realizing if this was her outlook he probably  _ didn't  _ want to know.

“How'd you get fired?”

He shrugged, realizing for the first time he wasn't sure. “Probably didn't need a damn redneck packing boxes.”

She said nothing, which somehow prompted him to go on.

“Nobody needs a damn redneck packing boxes.”

A few seconds later he asked her, “What do you do here?”

“Sorted order forms.” She wondered whether he would notice the past tense verb in her sentence.

He did.

“They fire ya too blondie?”

“No.”

“So why the hell ya-”

“I ain't telling you.”

That ended the conversation for a while.

_ 1 hour in _

Beth later pulled a bottle of bourbon out of her bag. She had no idea what she'd planned on doing with it originally, but now seemed like a good time for a drink. The man, who's name she hadn't bothered to learn, raised his eyebrows.

“Ya carry that all the time?” She shook her head as she popped the cap and took a swig. The fire roaring and clawing at her throat took her so, that she didn't even notice she'd passed the bottle to him.

Daryl knew this woman should never have alcohol the minute she offered the bottle to him. Yet he didn't stop her from giving and he didn't stop himself from taking. Later, he would understand it all.

“Do you know why you got fired?”

“Naw.”

“You do.”

“They didn't need me anyway. Nobody needs a redneck.”

“That's not true,” she said. “What if I said I needed you?”

He scoffed. “Ya don't need me.”

She stood up suddenly and shouted, “Don't tell me what I need you prick!”

Daryl stood up too.

“Yer a crazy bitch who carries bourbon in her purse! I don't think ya got a good sense of what ya need!”

“Well it's not my fault you're too afraid to tell me the real reason they fired you!”

Daryl sat down in defeat.

“They fired me cause the damn economy. And when the economy is shit they don't want a redneck asshole who got caught in one of his brothers bad deals.”

She sat down at this, a faraway look in her eyes.

“I'm sorry.”

Daryl believed her.

_ 3 hours in _

Beth had pulled out her gun. She had no idea why, she'd never planned on showing anyone, but the bourbon had long since addled her mind, and the last thing she was was sane.

Daryl tensed when the woman pulled a damn gun. What was wrong with her? “What the hell do ya have a gun for?” She shrugged as if she didn't know, yet she started talking to him. “I was gonna do it ya know. Still am probably.” 

Her slurred speech strangely made her words clearer, as though everything was finally clicking into place. 

“Why?”

She shrugged again. “Don't got anything better to do. Didn't think-”

Daryl stopped her right there. “You stop with that shit right now. I know what you was gonna say. Ya don't think any would miss ya. Yer pretty damn selfish if that's your thinkin.” He could practically hear the alcohol in his words.

She shook her head.

“That ain't it. I already know nobody would. I just wondered…. If  _ I  _ would miss me. If I would regret it later. And if I would miss anyone else. Or if anyone would even notice a difference.” Daryl moved to sit next to her as the first tear fell. 

“I understand.”

She looked up at him, and Daryl had to stop himself from looking away. 

“I sometimes thought if I would miss living. If I would miss anyone. And sure as hell I thought shit about life, and maybe it would better to go.”

“But you're still here.”

He nodded. “I am.”

“And just because ya think ain't nobody gonna miss ya, or if ya don't know if you'll miss yerself, it's still a shitty thing to do.”

“I ain't gonna go to Heaven that way.”

Daryl looked at her and almost had no words, until he found them that is.

“And ya wouldn't even if a truck came and took ya by accident.”

She looked at him with surprise.

“I ain't ever been a man of faith. But my mother was. She'd always told me ‘saying you believe don't mean shit if ya don't do anything with what you believe in.”’

She looked at him in wonder.

‘“But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deluding your own selves.’”

“What's that?”

“James 1:22. It's a bible verse. It just… Popped up I guess.”

Daryl shrugged. “Means the same thing.”

Beth nodded. “It does. I ain't done anything yet. I think I'm gonna start.” She reached for the gun and tossed it to the other side of the elevator, the weapon making a loud  _ clang _ against the metal door.

The woman scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, or maybe even hours, of comfortable silence, she introduced herself quite unnecessarily.

“I'm Beth.”

He laughed.

“Daryl.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't be thanking me none girl.” 

“I am. I think… I think differently about things. I think I want to have a birthday after all.”

He looked at her with appreciation as he took her hand in his. 

“Me too Beth. Me too.”

_ 4 ½ hours in _

“So where were ya gonna do it?”

“The basement. Thought nobody would find me.”

Daryl tried to resist laughing, but couldn't.

Beth glared at him. “It's not funny.”

Daryl glanced at her. “Yea it is. You thought nobody would find you in the basement? Where people make deliveries  _ all _ the time?”

Beth looked downward. “Yes.”

He hugged her tightly. “I'm so glad yer still here.”

Beth smiled at him. “Me too.”

_ 30 minutes later _

They talked about nothing for the next half hour. Things like their families and friends, what they did for fun, and what they might do next. Before they knew it someone had pried open the doors and they were both home free. 

Beth's workday had long since ended, and Daryl was already fired, so they just decided to leave. Beth grabbed Daryl's arm as he led her to her car. 

“Will you come home with me?”

He looked at her in surprise.

“Why?”

“I-I don't wanna be alone. And I want to get rid of this gun with someone.”

Daryl smiled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Sure thing blondie.”

As they piled into the car, Beth realized she would have a birthday after all.

And just because dogs run in front of cars doesn't mean they don't want to live. 

**And just because you think you're alone, it doesn't mean you are. **


End file.
